


Hope

by TextualDeviance



Series: The Raven and the Dove [25]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1381111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TextualDeviance/pseuds/TextualDeviance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ragnar worries about what has become of the beloved priest he left behind in England.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Set shortly after 2x05. Follows [The Body and the Blood](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1893726).

Ragnar never feared death for himself. He knew that the greatest likelihood of his manner of demise would be a glorious fall in battle. The gods would welcome him to Valhalla with open arms and generous smiles, and his people would sing and praise his great deeds long after his body had become ash. He also didn't mourn the battle deaths of his friends for the same reason. They would meet again, he knew, in those gilded halls, just as with those he lost to sacrifice.

Yet there were some deaths that gnawed at his very being like a sick hunger; deaths that would stay with him, shiny and hot as an undressed wound, as he mourned the loss. Gyda. The son Lagertha would have borne him. And now, he feared, Athelstan. He could have died in battle, Ragnar supposed, but though the untrained priest had shown surprising skill and courage in their raids, that wasn't a given. Even if he did die bravely, there was still no guarantee that Ragnar would see him again in Valhalla someday. For all Athelstan's professed claim of the Allfather, there were hints in his voice that he saw Odin only as a face of his Christian God. If the Christian Heaven claimed him, there would be no Valhalla reunion. And if instead it were the Christian Hell … he shook his head, trying to clear the thought.

"You are restless, husband." Aslaug's voice was thick with sleep. Nearby, their baby son whimpered softly; it would soon be time for him to be at the breast again.

"I am sorry," Ragnar murmured. He turned, stroking a lock of damp hair from her face. He looked into her half-lidded eyes, wondering for a moment what she really saw with them. He hadn't yet gone to the Seer with his worry about Athelstan; the old man barely tolerated the supposedly former Christian as it was. Yet perhaps his wife's gift might let her mind sail the turbulent seas to search for him. He took a breath, preparing himself to ask.

"You worry about Athelstan, do you not?"

She at least could see inside his own head, it seemed. Ragnar smiled. "Yes." Though his new wife had never loved Athelstan the way Lagertha had—and still did, if the alarm etched on her face when she heard the news was any indication—she nonetheless accepted her husband's affection for him. He was as generous and loving with her sons as he ever had been with Bjorn and Gyda: changing their swaddling clothes, playing with them, soothing them with sips of thick goat's milk when Aslaug was too exhausted to quickly rise to feed them and a wet nurse wasn't nearby. As they had grown, Ubbe and Hvitserk claimed him as much as their father did, if not in the same way. It was clear Athelstan missed Lagertha and Bjorn dearly, and probably held some anger at Ragnar for forcing them to leave, but Ragnar's new family was his as well. Thus, Aslaug tolerated their closeness, even looking the other way when Ragnar spent the occasional night in the priest's bed instead of theirs. Ragnar's flirting with comely maidens might spark her territorial feelings, but Athelstan could not give him sons; she feared his affections not, and had said as much. For this, Ragnar was grateful. She may have prevented Lagertha from wanting to stay, but at least he could keep his priest. That is, if his own hubris hadn't caused him to lose the man for good.

Aslaug closed her eyes and chewed her lip. She hummed quietly. Finally, her eyes flipped open again. "I can't see him," she said sadly. "Clouds and shadow obscure my path to him. I feel pain, but nothing more."

Ragnar released the tense breath he'd been holding, and unbidden, the sting of wetness came to his eyes. He turned away, staring in the weak firelight at the shifting shadows on the ceiling beams. "Thank you for trying," he said, patting her hand. "Go back to sleep."

She rolled over again, but the baby's whimpering became stronger. She rubbed a hand across her sore breasts. "I need to get up anyway." She turned back to Ragnar. "There may be one thing that could give you hope."

"Oh?" He propped up on an elbow.

"I think he loves both Odin and his god. Perhaps they do not fight over him, or resent each other for his split faith. Perhaps instead they both watch over him." She unfastened her gown and rose. "Perhaps they will guard him until you can go find him yourself."

Soon, soft suckling sounds were the only ones left in the room. Ragnar's physical exhaustion took over, and he drifted off. As he did, a half dream floated through his mind: a raven aloft at the prow of a ship, crying out its joy at seeing the green land to the west.

 


End file.
